Anthroponymy and Cultural Identity: The Significance of Akan and Yoruba Personal Names

Cite this article as: Adétọ̀míwá, Ă. A. (2025). Anthroponymy and cultural identity: The significance of Akan and Yorùbá personal names. Sokoto Journal of Linguistics and Communication Studies (SOJOLICS), 1(2), 206–219. https://doi.org/10.36349/sojolics.2025.v01i02.023

ANTHROPONYMY AND CULTURAL IDENTITY: THE SIGNIFICANCE OF AKAN AND YORÙBÁ PERSONAL NAMES

By

Ănuolúwapọ̀ Adéwùnmí ADÉTỌ̀MÍWÁ

aadetomiwa@unilag.edu.ng/ aaadetomiwa@st.ug.edu.gh

Department of Linguistics, African and Asian Studies, University of Lagos, Nigeria/

                  Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana, Legon, Ghana

Abstract

Personal names in Akan and Yorùbá societies of West Africa serve as profound markers of cultural identity, destiny, and spiritual belief. However, modernisation, globalisation, and the spread of Abrahamic religions have increasingly influenced naming practices, leading to a preference for foreign names over indigenous ones. This study aims to examine the cultural, linguistic, and philosophical significance of naming traditions among the Akan and Yorùbá peoples, with a particular focus on how names reflect gender, birth circumstances, social status, and metaphysical beliefs. This research employs a qualitative methodology, drawing on data from educational registers, oral interviews, questionnaires, and scholarly literature. The analysis reveals a growing trend toward English, Christian, and Islamic names, often driven by urbanisation, media exposure, and religious conversion. This shift has resulted in the anglicisation and mispronunciation of indigenous names, contributing to social stigma and identity concealment, especially in educational and urban contexts. The findings underscore the urgent need for linguistic advocacy, cultural education, and community-based strategies to preserve and revitalise indigenous naming systems. By framing names as cultural artefacts, the study highlights their role in sustaining African heritage and contributes to broader discourses on identity, postcolonial resistance, and cultural continuity.

Keywords: Abrahamic Religions, Anthroponymy, Akan names, cultural identity, modernisation, Yorùbá names

1. Introduction

The Akan and Yorùbá are two of West Africa’s ethnic groups, each distinguished by rich cultural traditions and languages that have profoundly shaped regional identity. The Akan constitute the largest ethnic group in Ghana, predominantly located in the southern and middle regions of the country (Agyekum, 2006; Sekyi-Baido, 2019; Sarbah& Adjei, 2024). They are also found in Togo, with some Bono (Bron) speakers residing in Côte d’Ivoire. There are approximately 17.2 million native Akan speakers, with a broader Akan population of about 25 million across West Africa (Statista, 2021; Worlddata.info, n.d.; Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2025). Akan languages belong to the Central Tano subgroup of the Kwa branch within the Niger-Congo family, including dialects such as Asante Twi, Akuapem Twi, Fante, Bono, and Wasa, which share mutual intelligibility and standardised orthographies.

Similarly, the Yorùbá are one of the largest ethnic groups in Nigeria, concentrated in the southwest, with significant communities in Benin, Togo, and a global diaspora (Ìkọ̀tún, 2014; Faloju&Fadairo, 2020). The Yorùbá population in Nigeria is estimated at approximately 50 million, making them the country’s second-largest ethnic group (Chukwu, 2025; Worldometer, 2025). Yorùbá is a tonal language within the Benue–Congo branch of the Niger–Congo family, with dialects such as Ọ̀yọ́, Ifẹ̀, Òǹdó, Èkìtì, Ẹ̀gbá, and Ìjẹ̀bú. A standardised orthography was established in the 19th century, and the language remains widely spoken both in Nigeria and among diaspora communities worldwide (Sesan, 2013).

Akan and Yorùbá were selected for this study because they represent two linguistically rich, culturally significant, and socially contrasting groups whose naming systems vividly illustrate the interplay between language, identity, and globalisation. Both societies view names as living symbols of identity, heritage, and destiny, reflecting communal values, beliefs, and continuity across generations. From a linguistic perspective, Akan and Yorùbá belong to different branches of the Niger-Congo family, Central Tano and Benue-Congo, respectively, making them ideal for comparative analysis within one of the world’s largest language families. Both groups have experienced colonial influence, urbanisation, and religious shifts (Christianity and Islam), leading to the widespread adoption of foreign names. This has created a tension between indigenous naming systems and foreign naming practices, making Akan and Yorùbá particularly suitable for examining issues of language contact, identity erosion, and revitalisation. Studying these two groups together provides valuable comparative insights into how naming practices function as cultural markers and how they adapt under modern pressures.

Names are powerful linguistic and cultural symbols that embody a people’s worldview, values, and identity. Across many African societies, naming extends beyond mere identification to reflect philosophy, history, and social consciousness. In West Africa, the Akan and Yorùbá peoples exemplify this depth of meaning. Among both groups, names are not arbitrarily chosen; they are deliberate expressions of lineage, morality, destiny, and communal belonging. As Obeng (2001), Agyekum (2006), Akinọlá (2014), and Fákùadé et al. (2019) observe, names often encapsulate birth circumstances, parental aspirations, and moral ideals that connect individuals to their ancestry and community.

In Akan society, names often mirror the context of a child’s birth, such as the day of the week, significant events, or parental expectations, serving as enduring reminders of one’s origins and purpose. Among the Yorùbá, naming practices are deeply rooted in metaphysical notions of destiny (àyànmọ̀), spirituality, and moral responsibility (Arko-Achemfuor, 2018; Fálójù &Fádáìró, 2020; Olúyẹmí, 2020). Both cultural systems share the belief that names possess inherent power, capable of shaping identity, guiding behaviour, and influencing life outcomes. This philosophy is echoed in traditional sayings such as the Akan proverb ‘‘Nsεmmɔnentinayɛkyɛɛ din’’ (names were shared because of criminal acts) and the Yorùbá maxim ‘‘Orúkọẹniniìjánuẹni’’ (a name is a person’s bridle), both of which stress the moral weight and behavioural guidance embedded in names (Agyekum, 2006; Ìkọ̀tún, 2014).

Despite their deep cultural and philosophical roots, traditional naming practices among the Akan and Yorùbá are increasingly threatened by the forces of modernisation, globalisation, and the spread of Abrahamic religions. These influences have introduced new naming conventions and fostered a growing preference for foreign names, often regarded as symbols of modernity, education, or religious piety (Orie, 2002; Eze, 2020). As Joh Sarre (Recaf-Writing Workshop, 2024) once said

                     ‘‘Well, if names are part of identity and people's identity is becoming more global-

                       citizen, who are we to tell them they shouldn't (express this in their names)?’’                                                                    

Consequently, many indigenous names are being replaced or abandoned, leading to the gradual erosion of cultural identity and linguistic heritage. This transformation poses a serious challenge to the survival of traditional African naming systems and the values they embody.

Against this backdrop, this study explores the cultural, linguistic, and philosophical dimensions of naming practices among the Akan and Yorùbá peoples. It examines how names function as repositories of cultural memory, instruments of moral education, and markers of individual and collective identity. This study is particularly concerned with understanding how traditional naming systems express spiritual and sociological significance, how modernisation and globalisation are reshaping these traditions, and what challenges exist in preserving them for future generations.

Methodologically, this study adopts a qualitative approach grounded in anthroponymy, the systematic study of personal names. It draws on oral interviews, textual analysis, and relevant scholarly literature to uncover the intricate relationship between language, culture, and identity within the two societies. Through this lens, this research seeks to demonstrate that indigenous naming practices are not merely linguistic phenomena but also cultural frameworks that sustain continuity, morality, and collective memory.

While this study acknowledges the influence and value of Abrahamic religions and foreign naming traditions, it does not advocate for their rejection. Rather, it calls for a balanced coexistence in which indigenous Akan and Yorùbá names are preserved and valued alongside foreign ones. This co-existence is essential for promoting cultural pluralism while safeguarding the symbolic and philosophical essence of African identity. This study ultimately argues that revitalising and sustaining indigenous naming practices are crucial for maintaining Africa’s cultural heritage in an era of rapid globalisation and identity transformation.

Anthroponymy: Cultural Significance and Contemporary Challenges

Anthroponymy, the study of personal names, provides a critical framework for understanding how naming practices shape individual and collective identities. Names are not merely linguistic labels; they are profound cultural signifiers that connect individuals to their heritage, lineage, and societal values. Among the Akan and Yorùbá peoples, naming traditions encapsulate philosophical depth and social meaning, reflecting historical consciousness, moral expectations, and communal belonging. However, the encroachment of globalisation, modernisation, and religious transformation increasingly threatens these indigenous systems. Thus, preserving and revitalising these traditions are essential for safeguarding cultural continuity and identity in the modern world.

Names function as repositories of historical narratives, social hierarchies, and personal identities (Algeo & Algeo, 2000; Owu-Ewie et al., 2021). Tualaulelei (2020) underscores their significance in educational contexts, where names mediate identity negotiation, social interaction, and inclusion. Agyekum (2006) further establishes that names act as sociolinguistic markers associated with variables such as gender, birth circumstances, and social status. Within Akan culture, naming conventions, comprising day names, family names, circumstantial names, theophoric names, and kinship names, serve to express moral values, ancestral connections, and situational meanings (Agyekum, 2006). ́Similarly, Yorùbá naming practices, classified into Orúkọàbísọ (names given on the naming day), Orúkọoríkì (praise names), Orúkọàmútọrunwá (preordained or heavenly names), and Orúkọàbíkú (names of death-prevention), embody social ideals such as morality, destiny, and spirituality (Fálójù &Fádáíró, 2020). Ìkọ̀tún (2014) highlights their precolonial role in maintaining religious beliefs, dialectal diversity, and communal identity. Anthroponymy thus positions names as cultural artefacts that encapsulate social philosophies and worldviews. Agyekum’s (2006) semiotic interpretation, aligned with Saussure’s linguistic theory, views names as signs in which the signifier (the name) relates to the signified (the individual). Naming, therefore, operates as a communicative act that conveys social meanings and contextual affiliations. Mateos and Longley (2011) emphasise that naming reflects the socio-economic and cultural milieu of parents, shaped by ancestry, gender norms, and community ties. Through such practices, individuals are situated within broader ethnocultural frameworks, reinforcing identity even amid migration and transnational influences.

Across the literature, modernisation, globalisation, and the spread of Abrahamic religions emerge as major forces reshaping traditional naming practices. Among the Yorùbá, the anglicisation of names has become increasingly prevalent, driven by perceptions of Western names as indicators of modernity and social prestige (Adékúnlé et al., 2022). This shift often results in the erosion of phonological integrity and cultural meaning. Similarly, in Akan communities, the preference for Western or biblical names correlates with urbanisation and global cultural assimilation (Arko-Achemfuor, 2018). In educational contexts, Tualaulelei (2020) observes that the mispronunciation and alteration of indigenous names undermine cultural inclusion and self-esteem, contributing to identity loss among younger generations. Religious conversion further accelerates these trends, as the adoption of Christian and Islamic names displaces traditional naming systems rooted in indigenous spirituality. In response, scholars have called for the revitalisation of African naming traditions as vehicles of cultural reclamation. Akíntóyè (2021) and Fálójù and Fádáíró (2020) advocate preserving the phonological, semantic, and sociocultural integrity of names as repositories of indigenous knowledge and history. Abubakari et al. (2023) and Nindow (2023) similarly emphasise the importance of safeguarding naming systems as reflections of historical consciousness and social organisation. Sustained inquiry into how naming practices influence educational engagement, social belonging, and identity formation remains vital. As Tualaulelei (2020) notes, more research is needed to explore how schools and educational policies can foster cultural inclusivity through respect for indigenous names.

Despite the growing body of scholarship, several gaps persist. There is limited empirical research on the intergenerational transmission of naming traditions and how youth perceive their cultural significance in a globalised world. Furthermore, the sociological implications of religious naming patterns, particularly the long-term effects of Christian and Islamic influence, remain underexplored. Gender also warrants closer examination, especially regarding how naming practices reinforce or challenge traditional gender roles within Akan and Yorùbá societies. Addressing these gaps is crucial for developing practical strategies that balance cultural preservation with evolving social realities.

This study is anchored in anthroponymy and cultural identity theory, integrating three theoretical perspectives: Cultural Identity Theory, Destiny and Telepathic Power, and Saussurean Semiotics. Cultural Identity Theory foregrounds names as mechanisms for preserving collective identity and continuity. The concept of Destiny and Telepathic Power, central to both Akan and Yorùbá cosmologies, posits that names influence an individual’s life trajectory, shaping behaviour, moral consciousness, and social relationships. Saussurean Semiotics further situates names as linguistic symbols that mediate meaning between the individual and the community. These frameworks illuminate the intricate relationship between naming, spirituality, and identity construction. By examining the cultural significance and contemporary challenges of naming among the Akan and Yorùbá peoples, this study contributes to broader discourses on identity, globalisation, and cultural resilience. It advocates for the preservation of indigenous naming traditions as vital components of African heritage and intellectual legacy. This research underscores the need for culturally grounded strategies to sustain these traditions amidst the homogenising pressures of modernisation and religious transformation.

 

2. Methodology

This study adopts a qualitative research design grounded in anthroponymy, the study of personal names, as a lens through which to explore the cultural, philosophical, and linguistic dimensions of naming practices among the Akan and Yorùbá peoples. This research is theoretically framed by cultural identity theory, Saussurean semiotics, and indigenous beliefs in the metaphysical influence of names on destiny. These frameworks collectively inform the study’s approach to understanding how names function as cultural signifiers and identity markers. A purposive sampling strategy was employed to recruit participants with demonstrable knowledge and experience in traditional naming practices. This approach ensured the inclusion of individuals capable of providing rich, contextually relevant insights. Participants were selected to reflect a diverse range of age groups, genders, and social statuses, with particular emphasis on those actively involved in naming ceremonies, such as elders, parents, and cultural practitioners.

Data collection was multi-pronged, combining primary and secondary sources to achieve a comprehensive understanding of the research questions. Structured questionnaires were administered to sixty-four respondents to gather quantitative data on perceptions of the cultural significance of names, the impact of globalisation and modernisation, and the challenges associated with preserving indigenous naming traditions. The questionnaires included both closed-ended and open-ended items to capture nuanced perspectives. In addition, semi-structured interviews were conducted with eighteen participants to elicit deeper qualitative insights into the personal and communal meanings attached to names. Interview topics included cultural symbolism, naming structures, religious influences, modern naming trends, and strategies for preservation. To contextualise the findings, archival records, educational registers, and scholarly literature were reviewed. These secondary sources provided historical depth and supported the analysis of naming conventions across time and space. Data analysis integrated both qualitative and quantitative techniques. Descriptive statistics, including measures of central tendency and dispersion, were calculated to interpret questionnaire responses. Frequency analysis was used to identify recurring patterns and trends. Thematic analysis was applied to interview transcripts and narrative accounts, allowing for the identification of core themes related to cultural values, identity formation, and naming practices.

Ethical protocols were rigorously observed throughout the research process. Informed consent was obtained from all participants, who were briefed on the study’s objectives and assured of their right to withdraw at any point. Confidentiality and anonymity were maintained through coded identifiers and secured data storage. Cultural sensitivity was prioritized, with respect shown for the beliefs and traditions of the communities involved. By employing a robust and ethically sound methodology, this study offers a nuanced and multidimensional understanding of the cultural significance and contemporary challenges surrounding naming practices in Akan and Yorùbá societies. The integration of qualitative depth with quantitative breadth ensures a thorough and balanced examination of the research questions.

3. Data Analysis and Findings

The Structure and Meanings of Akan and Yorùbá Names

Akan and Yorùbá names differ in that the Akan naming system includes day names, whereas the Yorùbá system features praise names. In both cultures, the Akan day names and Yorùbá praise names are genderised, serving to distinguish between males and females. Among the Yorùbá, apart from the names Òjó and Àìná (names giving to a male and female child born with an umbilical cord around their necks), which explicitly differentiate between genders, most other names are unisex, with only a few being gender-specific. Similarly, in Akan culture, only a limited number of family names are gendered.Despite these differences, both Akan and Yorùbá cultures share similarities in their naming traditions. Both cultures have circumstantial names, including anthro-toponyms and temporonyms, as well as names based on the manner of birth and death prevention beliefs. Additionally, both traditions incorporate ordinal names, birth-situation names, names inspired by fauna and flora, and physical structure names.

According to Agyekum (2006), the day name is called ‘‘kradin’’(meaning: soul's name) among the Akan.  Every child is automatically assigned a name based on the day of their birth, a practice deeply embedded in their cultural identity. These names are genderised and derived from the names of deities and their days of worship.  Both male and female names are presented below: Agyekum (2006: 214)

i.                    Names Given to Children according to the Days of the Week in Akan

DAY NAMES AKAN	DAY NAMES ENGLISH	MALE NAMES	FEMALE NAMES
Kwasiada	Sunday	Kwasi	Akosua
εdwoada	Monday	Kwadwo	Adwoa
εbenada	Tuesday	Kwabena	Abena
Wukuada	Wednesday	Kwaku	Akua
Yawoada	Thursday	Yao	Yaa
Efiada	Friday	Kofi	Afua
Memeneda	Saturday	Kwame	Ama

Table 1

Among the Yorùbá, the practice of assigning day names is less prominent than in Akan naming traditions. Traditionally, Yorùbá children received day names only when born on a sacred day of worship (Ọjọ́ Ọ̀ṣẹ̀). In such instances, names like Ọ̀ṣẹ̀, Abọ́ṣẹ̀dé, Bọ́ṣẹ̀dé, Bọ́ṣẹ̀, Ajọ́ṣẹ̀, or Jọ́ṣẹ̀ could be given, and these names applied to both males and females. However, in contemporary Yorùbá society, male-specific day names have largely fallen into disuse. With the decline of the traditional five-day Yorùbá calendar and the widespread adoption of the Western seven-day system, naming practices have undergone significant transformation. Female children born on Sundays are now frequently given indigenous equivalents such as Abọ́ṣẹ̀dé or Bọ́ṣẹ̀dé, while their male counterparts are more commonly named Sunday, reflecting a blend of indigenous and Western naming influences. Similarly, children born on other traditional days may still bear names associated with the spiritual significance of those days. For example, a child born on Ọjọ́ Ajé (Monday) might receive a name linked to Ajé, the deity of wealth and prosperity, while one born on Ọjọ́ Jàkúta (Thursday) could be named in honour of Ṣàngó, the deity of thunder and justice. These names symbolically connect the child to the divine forces governing the day of birth, reinforcing spiritual and cosmological continuity. The introduction of Abrahamic religions further reshaped Yorùbá naming conventions, integrating Roman and Islamic elements into indigenous practices. This syncretism led to the emergence of names such as Sunday and Monday, influenced by Christian tradition, and Jimoh, Jamiu, or Ọjọ́ńlá (“Great Day”), which align with Islamic or spiritual associations. Consequently, Yorùbá day naming today reflects a dynamic interplay between traditional cosmology, religious transformation, and global cultural adaptation.

ii.                  Family names

An Akan family name, derived from the thirteen patrilineal clans, is given to children by their father's parents, father, and mother.These are Bosommuru, Bosompra, Bosomtwe, Bosomnketia, Bosompo, Bosomdwerεbe, Bosomkrεte, Bosomafi, Bosomayesu, Bosomakɔm, Bosomakonsi, Bosomafram, and Bosomsika. These names are traditionally associated with deities. The prefix "Bosom" in the structure of these names signifies a deity, Agyekum (2006). Additional family names are presented in Table 2, distinguishing between male and female names.

Male names	Female names	Gloss
Ado	Adowaa/Adoma	Toughness
Agyekum	Agyekumwaa	A fighter who ceases to kill/brings peace
Akyampɔn	Akyampɔnmaa	Carefulness
Agyei	Agyeiwaa	Tough one with pride
Asare	Asare	Warrior
Fosu	Fosuwaa	Battle for a female/feminine battle
Frempɔn	Frempɔnmaa	Noble one
Ofori	Oforiwaa	Wealthy one (gold)
Opoku	Opokuwaa	One who loves to kill/ Militant person
ɔkyere	ɔkyerewaa	Apprehender of kings
Kumi	Kumwaa/Kumi	Lion/Belligerence

Table 2    (Agyekum, 2006; Sekyi-Baido, 2019)

Among the Yorùbá, family names often reflect chieftaincy and social status, incorporating elements such as Adé (crown), Oyè (chieftaincy), Akin (hero), Olú (principal child), and Ọlá (wealth/noble family). These elements frequently appear as prefixes, infixes, or suffixes in names. Examples of prefixes are provided below.

Adé + yẹmí →Adéyẹmi (The crown befits me),

Ṣíjúwo + adé →Ṣíjúwadé (Look at the crown)

Oyè+  wùnmí → Oyèwùnmí (I love chieftaincy)

Ọlá + oyè →  Ọláoye  (Wealth of chieftaincy)

Oyèkànńbí (Is it my turn to become a chief?),

Akin + bíyìí →  Akinbíyìí (The hero has fathered this)

Olú + dé → Olúdé (A principal child has arrived.)

Ọlá + dòkè → Ọládòkè (Our noble family has become a hill)

Additionally, occupations and deities associated with a family often influence Yorùbá names. According to the Yorùbá proverb, “Ilélà á wò ka tósọọmọlórúkọ” (The condition of the home is considered before naming a child), family names frequently incorporate elements that reflect their deity or traditional occupation.These naming conventions reflect the rich spiritual and occupational heritage of the Yorùbá, tying individuals to their family history and cultural identity.

Some Yorùbá family names originate from deities. Deities commonly prefixed in Yorùbá family names are listed in Table 3:

Deity/ Prefix	Meaning	Family Names	Meaning
Olú/Olúwa	Lord or deity	Olúyọ̀mádé	Olú rejoices over the crown.
Òrìṣà	Deity	Òrìṣàmáyọ̀wá	Òrìṣà has brought joy.
Òrìṣà-oko	Deity of agriculture	Ṣóyínká	Òrìṣà-oko has surrounded me.
Ògún	Deity of Iron	Ògúnjìmí	Ògún has given me this
Ṣàngó	Deity of Thunder	Ṣàngósànyà	Ṣàngó rewarded my suffering
Èṣù	Deity of Sacrifice, Wealth, and Money	Èṣùbíyìí	Èṣù gave birth to this one
Ọ̀ṣun	Deity of River Ọ̀ṣun	Ọ̀ṣundèyí	Ọ̀ṣun has become this one
Omi	Deity of water	Omiṣoore	Water has bestowed favour.
Ajé	Deity of Market and wealth	Ajéwọlé	Ajé has entered the house
Ọ̀sanyìn	Deity of Medicine	Ọ̀sanyìntọ́lá	Ọ̀sanyìn is as big as wealth
Orò	Deity of Bullroaring and Justice	Olóròdé Ìtagbèmí	The owner of Orò has come Ìta favours me
Ọ̀jẹ̀/ Eégún	Deity of masquerade	Ọ̀jẹ̀wọlé Eégúnjọbí	Ọ̀jẹ̀ has come home. Eégún collectively gave birth to this.
Ọbaolúayé/Baba Ṣànpọ̀nná	Deity of Infectious diseases and their healings	Ọbáfẹ́mi/ Babáfẹ́mi	Ọbalúayé loves me.
Ọya	Deity of the Ọya river	Ọyarínú	Ọya knows the mind
Ifá	Deity of Divination and Wisdom	Ifáyẹmí	Ifá befits me
Ọ̀pẹ̀	Ifa Divinatory chain	Ọ̀pẹ̀fèyítìmí	Ọ̀pẹ̀ put this in my custody
Awo	Ifa Priest	Awólọ́wọ̀	Awo should be given adequate respect and honour
Odù	Ifa literary corpus	Odùsanwó	Odù paid me money

Table 3

Among the Yorùbá, names may also be given based on the profession ancestrally associated with a family, Ehineni (2019: 80). Profession often serves as a prefix in Yorùbá names. Factors such as the geographical environment of the parents, birth circumstances, family situation (experiences or events in the family), religious beliefs, philosophy of life, and death situation determine family and personal names in Yorùbá. Examples are given below:

 

Profession/Prefix, infix and suffix	Meaning	Names	Meaning
Ọdẹ	Hunter/ Fisher	Ọdẹ́rìnwálé	Ọdẹ has walked home
Àgbẹ̀dẹ	Blacksmith	Ògúnlànà	Ògún paves the way
Oko/Àgbẹ̀	Farm/ Farmer	Arókoyọ̀, Adémókoyá	One who is pleasant on the farm, one who comes and makes farming faster
Jagunjagun/ Akin	Warrior/ Brave one	Ògúnsakin/ Akinloyè	Ògún makes a brave one,  Akin is the chieftaincy
Ọnà	Artworks	Ọnàdìran	Ọnà has become a lineage.
Àyàn	Drummer	Àyàngbẹ̀yẹ/ Àyànkúnlé	Àyàn is honoured/dignified, Àyàn filled the house
Alábẹ	Circumcision and tribal mark urologist	Alábẹdé	The owner of the blade has come
Ewé/ Jáwéjágbò	Leaf/ Herbalist	Ewéjókòó Ewéṣèyí	Ewe sat down Ewe has done this
Asíndẹ	Bead maker	Asíndẹmádé	One who weaves beads with  crowns.

 Table 4

Names associated with chieftaincy roles, such as Balógun (Father in the war/Warlord), Basọ̀run (Father of a hundred warriors), and Ọ̀tún (The right hand of the king), are also integral to family name structures.These names not only carry personal or familial significance but also reflect the cultural and hierarchical importance of chieftaincy in Yorùbá society.Among the Akan, family names are primarily derived from a single source deity. In contrast, Yorùbá family names originate from diverse sources, including professions, chieftaincy titles, and deities.

Circumstantial names are another category of names commonly found among both the Akan and Yorùbá cultures. These names are influenced by factors such as the place, manner, and time of birth, as well as any significant festivals occurring at the time of the child's birth.Anthrotoponymsare personal names related to the child's place of birth.Temporal Namesare associated with the specific period in which a child is born.Additional circumstantial names may reflect the manner of birth, death prevention beliefs, and survival names.Both cultures also have ordinal names and birth-situation names.

iii.                Circumstantial names

The circumstantial names relate to the place, manner, and time of birth, and the festivals observed during the child’s birth. Agyekum (2006) groups circumstantial namesamong Akan into four: anthro toponyms, temporonyms, manner of birth and death prevention, and survival names.

Anthrotoponyms: These are personal names that pertain to the place of birth of the child. Examples among the Akan are Bekwae, Kumase, Kokofu, Dwansa, Agogo, and Mampɔn, the names of traditional towns in the Asante Region of Ghana that are used for giving names to children after birth. Other places are named after a farm, rivers, inside the car, and so forth. Examplesof these types of names among the Yorùbá are  Abíọ́nà (Born on the road), Àbọ̀lọrẹ (Born in Mecca), Arókoyọ̀ (One who beholds the farm and feels joy/ one who was born in the farm), Tòkunbọ̀ (Brought from abroad/ one who was born abroad).

Temporonym: These names are associated with the period of a child’s birth and are often derived from significant sacred days, festivals, or events. Among the Akan, such names are linked to sacred days in their calendar, such as Adae (Sacred Sunday), Dapaa (Sacred Tuesday and Saturday), and Fofie (Sacred Friday), which occur every forty days and are dedicated to the worship of deities. Names may also originate from important festivals like Aboakyere, Akwambɔ, Odwira, Bakatue, and Ohum.Similarly, among the Yorùbá, names tied to specific times or events reflect the cultural significance of the circumstances surrounding the child’s birth. Examples include:Abídèmí (The child was born for me to return to meet / the baby was born while the father was away on a journey), Adébáyọ̀ (We arrived to find joy / a child born during the father’s travels)

Children born during festive periods are often given names such asAbíọ́dún, Abọ́dúndé, Bọ́dúnwá, Bọ́dúnrìn, Ọdúnayọ̀, Ọdúnọlá, and Ọdúnjọ̀ (all reflecting festivals or joyous occasions).Names associated with wartime births include:Abógundé, Abísógun, Arógunyọ̀, Ogundínà, and Ogunléndé (Born during the war).For coronations, names such as Abísóyè (Born during a coronation) are used, while births during relocations or housewarming are reflected in names like:Kọ́láwọlé (Bring wealth to the house), Kọ́léowó (Build a house of money), Bámidélé (Follow me to the house).These names stress the importance of temporality and cultural events in shaping identities within Akan and Yorùbá societies.

Ordinal and Birth-Situation Names

Among the Akan, ordinal names are given based on the order of birth by the mother. Examples includePiesie (1st child), Manu (2nd child), Mεnsa (3rd child, male) and Mansa (3rd child, female), Anane/Annan (4th child), Num/Anum (5th child), Nsia (6th child), Nson/Esuon (7th child), Nwɔtwe/Awotwe (8th child), Nkroma/Akron (9th child), Badu/Beduwaa (10th child), Duku (11th child), Adunu (12th child), Adusa (13th child), and so forth.Twins are given specific names based on their gender. Male twins are called Ata, while female twins are referred to as Ataa. For male twins, the older one is Ata Panyin (Ata the elder), and the younger is Ata Kakra (Ata the younger). Similarly, female twins are named Ataa Panyin and Ataa Kakra.Children born after twins have distinct names such as Tawia, Nyankomago, Atuakɔsεn, Abobakorowa, and Damusaa.

Among the Yorùbá, ordinal names are also significant, marking the first, middle, or last child in a family. Examples includeÀlàbí: A praise name for a male child who is the firstborn (opens the mother's womb), Adéṣínà: First child, meaning "One who opens the way.", Àárínọlá: Middle child, meaning "Middle of wealth.", Adébímpé: Last child, meaning "Child who comes to complete."In royal or chieftaincy families, the first male child is called Àrẹ̀mọ, while the first female is named Bẹ́ẹ́rẹ̀. In other Yorùbá families, the first male child may be called Dáwódù (borrowed from Arabic).Twins are named regardless of gender Táyé/Táí/Táyéwò/Táíwò (First to taste the world/(the older twin), Kẹ́hìndé (Last to arrive/ the younger twin).Children born after twins are given sequential names such as Ìdòwú (2nd child after twins), Àlàbá (3rd child after twins), Ìdògbé (4th child after twins), Ìdòha (5th child after twins), Ìdòkun (6th child after twins), and so on.Yorùbá names also reflect unique circumstances of birth, such as Òní(Today/ A baby boy who cries excessively), Ọ̀la (Tomorrow/ The second child after Òní), Ọ̀túnla (Day after tomorrow/ The third child).

Death Prevention Names: In both Akan and Yorùbá cultures, death prevention names are given to children who are believed to be at risk of repeated death, often due to spiritual or supernatural causes. These names are meant to either discourage the spiritual forces responsible for the child's death or plead with the child to stay alive.The Akans believe that if a child dies repeatedly, it is because the spiritual mother does not wish for the child to remain in the world. To counter this, they give the child unpleasant names derived from undesirable animals, objects, or expressions, intending to make the spiritual mother reject the child. Examples includeAdwengo (Palm kernel oil), Dɔnkɔ (Slave), Kaya (Carrier of loads), Sumina (Garbage), Abirekyie (Goat), Agyegyesεm (Harassment/troublemaking), Asaaseasa (The land is finished), Dinkyene (Eat salt), Saarabi (Just like that), Sereba (Silver).

In Yorùbá culture, this practice is referred to as "OrúkọÀbíkú" (names for children who die repeatedly). The Yorùbá believe that if a child dies repeatedly, it is because the child’s heavenly group does not wish for them to stay in the world. To address this, they give the child names that plead with them to remain alive or rebuke the spiritual forces causing the deaths, or unpleasant names like Akan.These names include Bámiṣayé / Bámijáyé / Jáyéọlá (Stay and enjoy life with me), Málọmọ́ (Don’t go again),  Àndúù (We are preventing him/her), Kásìmàwòò (Let us keep watching him/her),  Ajá(Dog), Eku (Rat), Òkúta (Stone), etc.

Flora and fauna and physical structure: Among the Akan, some personal names are derived from flora and fauna by comparing the children's physical structures to them. This includes Abenaa Koɔ(Buffalo), Adwoa Kɔre(Eagle),Kofi Nantwi (Bull),‘Akua Kɔkɔɔ’ (The red one), ‘Akua Tia’ (Akua, the Short one), ‘Buroni’ (The white one), ‘Kofi Teawa’(Kofi the Slim One), ‘Kwaku Dua’(Kwaku the Tree), and so forth. Among the Yorùbá, personal names derived from flora and fauna by comparing the children's physical structures are: Àjànàkú (Elephant), Ẹkùn Abìjàwàrà (Leopard), Àpáta (Rock), Ìrókò Olúwéré (Chlorophora excelsa), Àbẹ̀ó Ọ̀kín (Peacock), Ewé/Ewéńjẹ́/ Ewéjókòó  (Leaf/ leaf responds/ Leaf sits),  and so forth. Yorùbá uses this kind of names for eulogy, examples are: Dúdúyẹmí (Black befits me), Adúmáadán (Black and shine), Apọ́nbéporẹ́ (As red as palm oil), Ìbàdí Ìlẹ̀kẹ̀, Ìbàdí Àrán, Òrékelẹ́wà, Òrenté, Agùntáṣọọ́lò, Akúrúyẹjó and so forth. Yorùbá use this kind of name for eulogy.

Praise Names and Their Significance

The Yorùbá also have Orúkọ oríkì (praise names), which distinguish between male and female roles in society. Male praise names emphasise bravery and strength, while female praise names reflect care, tenderness, and pampering. Examples of male names include Àkàndé (a child who deliberately came to the world), Àmọ̀ó (Child who is great to be reckoned with), Àyìnlá (born to be praised, acclaimed, famous, and disciplined), etc. Examples of female praise names include Àbẹ̀kẹ́ (a child that people must beg to care for), Àṣàbí (a child who is chosen to give birth),Àgbékẹ́ (A child to be carried and pampered), etc.These names not only highlight cultural values but also reflect the societal expectations and roles assigned to individuals based on gender, lineage, and achievements.

1.      Impact of Modernisation and Globalisation

It has been observed that for many Akans and Yorùbá, their indigenous names are not used as their first names. The contemporary structure of their names includes an English, Christian or Arabic name as the first name, an Akan or Yorùbá name as the middle name, and a surname, which may be Akan, Yorùbá, English, or Arabic. Examples are provided in Tables 5 and 6 below.

S/N.	Islamic Names Male	Islamic Names Female	Christian Names Male	Christian Names Female
1.	Abdul-Samed Toyibu	Fatima Suhugini Abubafari	Joseph Kofi Teye	Portiah TiwaahAdinkrah
2.	Alhassan Yahaya	Mariam Hadishaibu	David Aladago	Augustina Edemassisi
3.	Amin Abukari	Khadija Illiasu	Emmanuel Danso Gyimah	Betty Adu-Cyanyi

Table 5

 

S/N	Islamic Religion Male	Islamic Religion Female	Christianity Male	Christianity
1.	Abdulfatai Olúwatósìn Tẹríba	Airat Fọláṣadé Adamson	Caleb Sunday Ọwọ́ade	Doris Moyọ̀sọ́rẹ Alawode
2.	Abdumalik Adémọ́lá Anisere	Aishat Adédàmọ́lá Adébáyọ̀	Clement Ọlálékan Abíọ́dún	Grace Fọlákẹ́mi Ọdẹrìndé
3.	Kazeem Olúwaṣeun Azeez	Badrat Tosìn Salami	Daniel Ayọ̀délé Dàda	Esther Bùsọ́lá Dùnmádé

Table 6

As shown in Tables 5 and 6, many Akan and Yorùbá adopt foreign names as their first names. Additionally, it has been observed that some Muslims do not use Akan or Yorùbá names as surnames, opting instead for Islamic names. This results in two Islamic names alongside one indigenous name.It is quite rare to find an Akan or Yorùbá individual with three names that do not include a foreign name as the first. In Table 7, Example 1 illustrates a rare case of three entirely indigenous names. Examples 2 and3 feature two indigenous names, but the absence of a third name suggests that the foreign name might have been deliberately omitted.This trend suggests an emerging effort to counter the dominance of foreign names over indigenous ones, reflecting a possible awareness of an attempt to restore balance to traditional naming practices.

S/N	AKAN MALE	AKAN FEMALE	YORÙBÁ MALE	YORÙBÁ FEMALE
1.	Kojo Opoku Aidoo   Kofi Sarpong Adu-Manu	Akosua Adomako Ampofo   Adwoa AchiaaAbrokwaah	Ọbalolúwa Adétúnjí Adékọ̀yà   Olúwagbénga Abíọ́lá Dúrójayé	Temitọ́pẹ́ Adédoyin Ọlọ́nàdé   Dámilọ́lá Àńjọlá Ọládẹ̀ìndé
2.	Boakye Sekyerehene	Kunwaa Agyei	Táíwò Bámkọ́lé	Fúnmiláyọ̀ Ògúnsuyì
3.	Kwame Akyampɔn	Afua Opoku	Tósìn Akintọ́lá	Modúpẹ́ Olóròdé

Table 7

Agyekum (2006) highlights a period when Ghanaians began to recognise the dominance of foreign names over indigenous names, prompting efforts to address this imbalance. He notes that on the University of Ghana’s Legon campus, there was a trend of students formally changing their names to drop foreign elements. A final-year student, Miss Quarcoo, Agnes Naa Ahima,removed the Western name Agnes from her full name, retaining only the indigenous elements. Another student, Senya, Praise changed her name to Senya, Kafuireplaced the Western name Praise with Kafui, an indigenous Ewe name.

Reasons behind the preference for foreign names: Changes between 1990s and 2000s among Akans

According to respondent 15, in Ghana during the late 1990s and early 2000s, parents commonly gave their children Western names as a reflection of Westernisation and perceived enlightenment. Names such as Scholarstical, Christacia, and Christabel were associated with sophistication, civilisation, and high social status, particularly for female children. Many of these names were not Biblical but rather Western, including examples like Forgive and Precious. Even parents with little understanding of English adopted this trend, influenced by the media. At the time, approximately 80–90% of television and radio programs featured Western content, including cartoons, movies, and music, which further popularised Western names. Despite this trend, every child retained an indigenous name for use at home, while Western names were often used in school. In private schools, having a Western name suggested wealth and privilege. However, in recent years, this trend has shifted, with some individuals moving away from Westernisation and reclaiming African identities.

When respondent 16 was asked why he prefersGideon to his indigenous name, he responded ‘‘I like Western names because everybody knows the meaning. If I mention my Ghanaian name, foreigners will be asking for the meaning, but nobody asks for the meaning of Gideon.’’

Individuals often modify or abandon their indigenous names due to mispronunciations, teasing, or concerns over personal security. Respondent 12, Abena Mankontia(Meaning: Do not fight against), adopted the name "Gloria" after classmates distorted her indigenous name into an unintended meaning. She said ‘‘I prefer to be called ‘Gloria’ because the short form of my indigenous name ‘Manko’ was corrupted to ‘Meko’ (pepper). The two words are homophones but different in meaning.But my friends chose to play on my indigenous name ‘Manko’ by calling me ‘Meko’. That was why I changed my name to ‘Gloria’ on my social media handles.

Similarly, Respondent 17, Àánúolúwapọ̀, insists on using her full name to prevent offensive misinterpretations. Shesaid the short form of her name, ‘Anu’ in ‘Anuoluwapo’, was corrupted to ‘Anus’ by classmates and friends. Some claim it means ‘goat’ or nasty objects in their languages. This is why she prefers to be called the full form with the correct spelling of the name ‘Àánúolúwapọ̀’ to avoid the name being corrupted. In Nigeria, a woman named Fọlákẹ́ Ògúnwámirì (meaning "The deity of iron has searched for me") shares her experience: She said, “During my primary school days, I always felt hurt whenever my teacher altered the meaning and pronunciation of my surname to Ògúnwáèrì (meaning 'The deity of iron has searched for you'). Similarly, a girl in my class named Èṣùbùnmi was repeatedly called Èṣùbùnẹ by the same teacher. This is why, when she got to higher education, she decided to change her name without seeking her parents' consent.”

Respondent 18, a 65-year-old woman, uses an English name, Eunice, to conceal her true identity, believing indigenous names hold power and could be used for harm. She believes revealing one’s real name could expose them to harm, as there are powers in names.  According to her, if strangers or enemies know one's real name, they could potentially use it to cause harm. Some people claimed in the past that Yorùbá praise poetry names served this purpose, as they were more commonly used to protect an individual’s true identity. However, with the decline in the use of praise names, many now adopt English or Arabic names as a substitute to fulfil the same protective function.

This situation aligns with occurrencesin Samoa, Australia. Tualaulelei (2020) documents cases in which Samoan students bearing indigenous names such as Toaitiiti, Koaikiiki, and Faafoe had their names shortened or Anglicised in school to Titi, Foo, or Foh. These alterations arose largely from peers’ teasing and teachers’ inability or unwillingness to pronounce the names correctly. For instance, Faafoe, who was named after her aunt, had her name changed by her mother to Vicky, a name disconnected from any familial or cultural significance, following repeated mispronunciations by staff and classmates at Mirragin. Similarly, another student, Ioane, was compelled to adopt Steven as his school name, while Titi, named after her mother, Toaitiiti, had her name informally shortened and Westernised. In essence, all three students were known by names other than those bestowed upon them at birth.

Such cases illustrate a broader sociolinguistic phenomenon in which individuals are pressured, either overtly or subtly, to abandon or modify their given names. Mockery, social exclusion, or persistent mispronunciation often compel people to adopt new names as a form of self-protection or assimilation. Teachers may mispronounce students’ names, sometimes unintentionally, yet students are frequently expected to respond to these altered forms. Over time, many internalise these imposed versions, referring to them as their “school names.” These practices reflect a wider pattern of linguistic dominance, whereby non-Western names are reshaped to conform to foreign phonological norms, erasing their cultural and semantic depth. Altering names not only distorts their meanings but also undermines the cultural identity of their bearers, perpetuating marginalisation and symbolic exclusion. This dynamic reveals deep-seated power imbalances in intercultural communication, as the burden of adaptation typically falls on the name bearer rather than the speaker. To foster inclusivity and mutual respect, individuals should be empowered to correct mispronunciations without fear of ridicule, while educators and institutions must actively commit to learning and honouring the correct pronunciation of diverse names. Recognising and respecting the cultural significance of names is vital for affirming identity, promoting linguistic equity, and cultivating genuine intercultural understanding.

4. Descriptive Analysis of Survey Data

The survey results indicate a higher representation of female respondents (62.5%) compared to male respondents (37.5%). In terms of ethnic background, the distribution is as follows: Akan (34.4%), Yorùbá (45.3%), and other ethnic groups collectively making up the largest share at 20.3%.The majority of respondents (71.9%) perceive personal names as very important in their respective cultures, while 23.4% consider them important, and only 4.7% remain neutral on the subject.A significant portion of respondents (43.8%) strongly agree that names influence a person's destiny, while 35.9% agree. Meanwhile, 15.6% remain neutral, and a small fraction (4.7%) strongly disagrees with this belief.When asked whether they had noticed a trend toward foreign names, 67.2% responded affirmatively, while 32.8% did not perceive such a shift.An overwhelming majority (75%) strongly agree that indigenous names should be preserved, while the remaining 25% agree, demonstrating a near-universal recognition of the importance of maintaining traditional naming practices.A significant proportion of respondents (51.6%) maintain a neutral stance on the impact of globalisation on naming practices. However, 32.8% believe globalisation has had a negative effect, while only 15.6% perceive its influence as positive.Regarding modernisation, 50% of respondents view its impact on naming practices as negative, while 39.1% remain neutral. Only a small percentage (10.9%) believe modernisation has had a positive effect.The survey also examined the extent to which Abrahamic religions influence naming traditions. A significant 59.3% of respondents believe Abrahamic religions have had a substantial impact, while 29.7% consider the influence moderate. A smaller fraction (6.3%) perceives only a slight impact, and 4.7% believe there is no influence at all.These findings highlight the strong cultural attachment to names, concerns over the effects of globalisation and modernisation, and the noticeable influence of religious and foreign naming practices in contemporary society.

4.1 Analysis of Narratives Shared by Respondents

The oral interviews conducted provide rich insights into the cultural and personal significance of names among these ethnic groups. Several respondents provided compelling examples illustrating the belief that names influence a person’s destiny and shape their life experiences.Respondent 11 recounted the story of a distant family relative named Uyom, meaning “the lonely one.” His name appears to mirror the hardships he has faced throughout his life. As the only surviving son of his father, he longed for male children of his own but struggled for nearly two decades to have one. When he finally had a son, his sixth child, the child tragically passed away before reaching a year old. Two years ago, further misfortune struck when he lost his wife, who was still nursing an infant. His life story aligns with the perceived power of names in shaping a person’s experiences, suggesting that names can carry deep existential weight, influencing fate in ways that cannot always be explained.Respondent 12 provided another striking example with the name Antwi Bosiako, which symbolises resilience, boldness, and leadership. His name is tied to a historical figure known for his courage and self-sacrifice. As a chief, Antwi Bosiako exhibited extraordinary bravery and ultimately gave his life for his people. This demonstrates how names can serve as a powerful legacy, inspiring individuals to embody the qualities they represent. It also reflects the cultural tradition of bestowing names that convey strength, responsibility, and leadership, reinforcing the idea that names profoundly influence identity and destiny.

Respondent 6 brings out the deep cultural significance of names in the Yorùbá community. Names are believed to influence destiny, a notion exemplified by prominent Nigerian figures such as former President Goodluck Jonathan and Governor Lucky Orímisàn Ayédatiwa. The meaning of their names, Goodluck symbolising fortune, Orímisàn meaning "my head is good", and Aiyédatiwa "the world has become ours", are perceived as having shaped their political trajectories.Goodluck Ebele Jonathan’s political career similarly aligns with the meanings of his names, Goodluck (fortune) and Ebele (mercy or divine will). From primary school to the presidency, he experienced a pattern of unanticipated advancements, often assuming leadership roles due to circumstances beyond his control. His rise from Deputy Governor to Governor and Vice President to President exemplifies the belief that names shape destiny.The trajectory of Ondo State Governor Lucky Orímisàn Aiyédatiwa further reinforces the Yorùbá belief in the power of names. His surname, Aiyédatiwa, and his first and second names, Lucky and Orímisàn, are believed to have foreshadowed his political ascent despite formidable opposition, including attempts by his predecessor, the late Governor Rotimi Akeredolu, to remove him. However, fate intervened, and he ultimately secured the governorship.

Respondent 17 further illustrates this belief with historical examples. Michael Agbọ́ládé Ọ̀tẹ̀dọlá, former Governor of Lagos State (1992–1993), emerged victorious against expectations due to internal disputes within the dominant Social Democratic Party (SDP). His name, meaning "conspiracy turns to wealth," is seen as prophetic, as political discord inadvertently facilitated his rise to power. Similarly, the succession crisis following the death of ỌbaAbíọ́dúnOnírú resulted in the unexpected emergence of Prince Gbọ́láhàn Lawal as the Onírú of Irú Land. His name, Ọmọgbọ́láhàn (one who displays honour and nobility), is interpreted as reflective of his eventual leadership role.Olúṣẹ́gunỌbasanjọ́’s life further exemplifies this phenomenon. Throughout his journey, Olúṣẹ́gunÒkìkíọlá Ògúnbóyè Àrẹ̀mú Ọbasanjọ́(Ògúnbóyè meaning this child from the deity of Iron has found a chieftaincy title), (Òkìkìọlá meaning the fame of his wealthy family) overcame trials and conquered his enemies, living up to the meaning of his name.His name, Olúṣẹ́gun (The Lord has triumphed), aligns with his history of overcoming adversity, from surviving political imprisonment to twice becoming Nigeria’s Head of State. His surname, Ọbasanjọ́ (favoured by the deity of smallpox), is also seen as symbolic of divine protection, reinforcing the Yorùbá view that names hold intrinsic power.

Respondent 6 highlights an intriguing cultural observation regarding the title Ọbalọ́la (Tomorrow’s King). Many Yorùbá princes avoid this designation, believing it diminishes their chances of ascending the throne. This notion, popularised in Fẹ́miAdébáyọ̀’s film Seven Doors, suggests a growing scepticism about the title’s implications. The testimonies of Respondents 6 and 17 illustrate the profound belief within Yorùbá culture that names shape personal and political destinies, reinforcing the interconnectedness of identity, fate, and social standing. Respondent10 strongly believes that names can influence a person’s destiny and shared a personal experience where their name led to unexpected assistance from a stranger of the same ethnic background.Their name, "Mantenso," meaning "I will never forget," was given in remembrance of the hardships faced by their paternal grandparents. This name holds deep personal significance, serving as a reflection of their family’s history and experiences. According to the respondent, names provide a strong sense of identity and belonging, connecting individuals to their cultural heritage and ancestry.

These examples collectively affirm the belief that names encapsulate personal and cultural narratives, shape experiences, and sometimes even foreshadow life’s journey. Whether bringing joy, enduring hardship, or embodying resilience, the names given to individuals play a significant role in defining their paths and connecting them to their cultural heritage.As several respondents observed, understanding the deeper meaning of one’s name, whether indigenous or foreign, is essential, as names exert a significant psychological and cultural impact on the life of their bearers.

4.2 Linguistic Analysis of Akan and Yorùbá Names.

Phonologically, Akan day names are typically disyllabic, following a consonant-vowel (CV) structure. Examples include Kwa-me and Kwa-ku, where the syllables adhere to the CV pattern, making them easy to pronounce and remember.Yorùbá praise names are generally trisyllabic, also adhering to the CV pattern. Beyond these distinctions, most Akan and Yorùbá names are polysyllabic and do not contain consonant clusters, as their syllable structures primarily consist of CV, V, or nasal consonants.Yorùbá names exhibit distinct phonological characteristics due to the tonal nature of the language. Since tonal variations can significantly alter the meaning of a word, Yorùbá names often include tonal marks to preserve their intended meanings. The phonological complexity of these names, particularly in tonal languages like Yorùbá, emphasises the importance of accurate pronunciation to maintain their original significance. Akan circumstantial names tend to be polysyllabic, often formed by combining multiple words or morphemes. For example, Nya-me-kye (God’s gift) and  Nhyira (Blessing) consist of three syllables, each contributing to the overall meaning of the name. These names encapsulate the emotions and circumstances that accompanied a child’s birth. Yorùbá  names such as Adéwálé derive from Adé (crown) and Wálé (come home), while Ọdẹ́túndé is formed from Ọdẹ (Hunter) and Túndé (return) and are typically polysyllabic and follow a CVstructure, as seen in A-dé-wá-lé, Ọ-ba-san-jọ́ and Ọ-dẹ-tún-dé, maintaining a rhythmic flow that aligns with Yorùbá phonetic rules.

Akan names exhibit distinct phonological characteristics, with consonant clusters being rare and most names following a simple consonant-vowel (CV) structure. Additionally, they demonstrate a high degree of vowel harmony, which ensures phonetic balance and smooth pronunciation.In terms of semantic meaning, Akan names often hold deep cultural and spiritual significance, reflecting beliefs, familial roles, and societal values. For instance, the name Nyamekye translates to "God’s gift,"symbolising blessings and divine favour.Yorùbá names possess unique phonological features due to the tonal nature of the Yorùbá language. Since tone variations can completely alter the meaning of a word, names frequently include tonal marks to maintain their intended significance. Despite this complexity, Yorùbá names generally adhere to a CV structure, as seen in examples like Ọbásanjọ́ and Àjàsá.Regarding semantic meanings, Yorùbá names often encapsulate an individual’s character, destiny, or divine intervention. A name like Olúṣẹ́gun, for example, conveys resilience and faith, reflecting the belief in overcoming adversity through divine assistance.Both Akan and Yorùbá names function as cultural anchors, preserving ancestral lineage, societal traditions, and spiritual values. They play essential roles in ceremonies, storytelling, and the transmission of cultural knowledge.

Among the Akan, names like Kwaku, Kwabena, Kwadwo, and Asantewaa have been anglicised into Quarcoo, Kobby, Kojo, and Santy, while Yorùbá names such as Ìdòwú, Àbẹ̀kẹ́ and Olúwabùkọ́lá  have been shortened to ID/ Noble, Bekky and Bukky. This shift erodes the cultural and historical significance of names, weakening generational ties to heritage and diminishing cultural pride. The loss of traditional naming practices threatens the continuity of Akan and Yorùbá identities, as younger generations become increasingly disconnected from their ancestral roots in an era of globalisation.

Preserving indigenous naming practices requires educational, policy-driven, and community-based initiatives. Schools should integrate the cultural significance of names into curricula, fostering appreciation and cultural pride. Workshops and storytelling sessions can strengthen personal and communal connections to indigenous names. Policy measures should mandate the recognition of indigenous names in official documents, school registries, and public records to normalise their use. Digital platforms, social media campaigns, and documentary projects can document and celebrate traditional names, enhancing their visibility. Encouraging the use of indigenous names in workplaces, educational institutions, and social spaces can reinforce their relevance in contemporary settings. Community leaders and public figures can model this integration, demonstrating that traditional and modern names can coexist. These strategies collectively contribute to sustaining indigenous naming traditions and strengthening cultural identity.

5. Conclusion

The preservation of indigenous names is intrinsically tied to maintaining cultural identity and continuity. These names are deeply woven into the fabric of cultural narratives, reflecting societal values and beliefs. As highlighted earlier, the erosion of traditional naming practices can lead to cultural disintegration, where individuals lose meaningful connections to their ancestry and heritage.Moreover, the sense of belonging and identity that indigenous names provide is crucial for social cohesion. In a globalised world where individuals can feel fragmented, the reaffirmation of one’s name as a point of cultural pride can strengthen community ties. It fosters a sense of belonging and community identity, which is particularly important in diasporic contexts where individuals may feel disconnected from their roots.

The rich tapestry of naming practices among the Akan and Yorùbá communities encapsulates profound cultural, historical, and personal significance. Names serve as vital markers of identity that connect individuals with their heritage, community, and collective memory. The shifts towards Western naming conventions pose significant challenges to the preservation of these traditions, potentially undermining cultural continuity and identity.Efforts to reverse this trend should focus on educational initiatives, community engagement, policy advocacy, and cultural resource development. By fostering an environment that celebrates and respects indigenous naming conventions, communities can ensure that these vital elements of their cultural heritage are preserved for future generations. Only through a concerted effort that recognises the intrinsic value of names can societies safeguard their linguistic diversity and cultural richness amidst the forces of modernisation and globalisation.Continued dialogue among scholars, community leaders, and policymakers is essential to navigate these complexities and promote an understanding of the critical role that names play in shaping identity and preserving cultural heritage.

By understanding the socio-cultural implications of naming practices, communities can develop strategies to bolster cultural pride and strengthen intergenerational ties, thus ensuring that the stories behind indigenous names continue to resonate within the lives of individuals and the collective consciousness of society. Preserving indigenous names is not merely about maintaining linguistic diversity but safeguarding the very essence of cultural identity, ensuring legacies are honoured and respected, and connections to ancestry remain strong amid the pressures of modern life.By understanding the cultural, personal, and societal dimensions of names, we can develop effective strategies to safeguard these vital components of cultural heritage. This study calls for concerted efforts from researchers, educators, policymakers, and community leaders to protect and promote the rich linguistic and cultural heritage embodied in indigenous names.

Acknowledgements

This study was generously supported by the Lisa-Maskell-Gerda Henkel Foundation, Germany. It also greatly benefited from the invaluable contributions of Akan participants in Ghana, Legon, and Yorùbá participants in Lagos, Nigeria.

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